Category Archives: poetry

Daniel Cooper, this is your history – An except from The Neon Yak, by Robert Garnham

Hello, here’s another excerpt from my new novel, which you can purchase here https://www.lulu.com/shop/robert-garnham/the-neon-yak/paperback/product-jewwrd5.html?q=The+neon+yak&page=1&pageSize=4

Writing ‘The Neon Yak’

I first started writing The Neon Yak about three years ago. I was going through some old poems that I had written while staying with my Grandmother in Surrey, she lived in an old two up two down cottage in the woods and there were glimpses of London in the distance, and I realised what a magic place it all was. And then I started to think about all of the emotions a teenager has at the time, and the events which occur which, looking back, seem magical in themselves. Add to these the usual teenage longings, and the inner struggle of accepting my own homosexuality, and the story just seemed to seep into my consciousness.

The Neon Yak is heavily autobiographical, but not totally. Some of the things which happen in the novel actually did happen to me. In fact, I would say that about three quarters of the ‘supernatural’ events in the novel happened. I’m not sure whether they took place in that strange realm of half dream, half awake, or in actuality, but they felt real and they still feel real now.

And what of The Neon Yak itself? This entity is something I created for my 2017 Edinburgh show, In the Glare of the Neon Yak, but it is based on the local legends and folklore which were prevalent in the area where I grew up of Herne the Hunter. If you’ve never heard of Herne, then a Google search will prove enlightening, though there are theories that he was invented by William Shakespeare for The Merry Wives of Windsor. Whatever the origins, Herne the Hunter seemed real for us kids growing up, and any visit to the woods always carried the risk of being confronted by The Hunter.

The novel takes place during the summer between middle school and secondary school, which is always a strange time when you are growing up. For me it was especially auspicious, because it meant commuting to a busy town in the suburbs of west London instead of staying in our cosy little Surrey village surrounded by woods. The secondary school felt like another world and of course, along with it came a growing sense of my own sexuality, and my own denial of that. The events which are laid out during that summer, in actuality, probably occurred over the space of a few years. If you ask me nicely one day, I might tell you which are real and which are works of imagination.

I wrote the first draft of the novel over a frenetic month in 2023, and then spent the next year refining it and editing. I am hugely grateful to Stoat Books for publishing it.

You can order a copy here https://www.lulu.com/shop/robert-garnham/the-neon-yak/paperback/product-2m4jj2e.html?q=The+Neon+Yak&page=1&pageSize=4&fbclid=IwZXh0bgNhZW0CMTEAAR24JqIowDGJ-t10StfCY8FSIrOKB3Pn7k9momkiK_AYBZBVfAwUS8Icivk_aem_aXHTimgkDLXM2AXc8pzPCA

The Neon Yak

My novel The Neon Yak is published today by Stoat Books. A tale of growing up, coming of age, magic, folklore, the dark woods of Surrey, and a drag queen called Tina Afterburner.

“Have you ever felt like a stranger in your own life? The Neon Yak is a beautifully written and deeply introspective novel that explores the challenges of growing up different. Set in the heart of 1980s suburbia, it follows Daniel Cooper, a boy caught between his true self and the expectations imposed upon him. As he navigates school bullies, family tensions, and the constant backdrop of motorways and distant city lights, Daniel finds refuge in books, music, and his vivid imagination. Amidst his struggle with societal norms and self-discovery, a voice from within—embodied by the captivating and enigmatic Tina—urges him to embrace his authentic identity.”

Here’s an excerpt from the novel, a short chapter entitled ‘One Day I Levitated’.

You can order the book at the moment from Stoat Books’ Lulu site right here: https://www.lulu.com/shop/robert-garnham/the-neon-yak/paperback/product-2m4jj2e.html?q=The+Neon+Yak&page=1&pageSize=4&fbclid=IwZXh0bgNhZW0CMTEAAR24JqIowDGJ-t10StfCY8FSIrOKB3Pn7k9momkiK_AYBZBVfAwUS8Icivk_aem_aXHTimgkDLXM2AXc8pzPCA

Straight – The 2025 Version

Hello, I’ve recently been going through the poems from my debut collection, Nice, which is now ten years old. How did that happen!

Some of them are a little outdated because of the cultural references at the time. I’ve started to update them, because, you know, poems are never definitive.

This week I performed the new version of Straight, a banger from the early 2010s which helped me win many slams back when I used to do slams. I’d not performed it in ages but this is a rewritten version which seemed to go down well!

I hope you like it.

Robert Garnham Live at the Wardrobe Theatre, Bristol, February 2022


Live at Milk, February 2022

It’s been a couple of years and it felt very weird, but I finally got the chance to do some shows before a live audience the last week or so. The first was in Penzance, then Wolverhampton, and then finally at Milk in Bristol.

I was incredibly nervous but hopefully it didn’t show. I ran through a mix of old and new poems, and had a lot of fun, too!

You can hear my entire set below. I hope you like it. There are one or two surprises. And wow, what a brilliant audience!

I had a wonderful time at Milk in Bristol. One of the best audiences I’ve ever had! You can listen to the entire set above.

Write out Loud, Woking, Robert Garnham Full Set

I had a wonderful time performing in Woking last night. As ever I recorded my set. I have so many of these recordings that I don’t know what to do with them. But here, at least, is last night’s.

The poems I did were:

Are you Cool?

Mariner Man (Edith Sitwell cover)

Seaside Soul

The Nature Reserve

Butter Cake

Smurftown

I Wish I Was a Panda Bear

Surfer Dude

Sofa Phobia

Shakka Lakka Boom

Ode to You Know Who

Oh my goodness you really are a repulsive little man.
If we should ever pass in the street I certainly
Wouldn’t doff my cap.
It makes my stomach churn even to think we are
The same species.
Your utterances are toxic and deliberately 
Pugnacious and delivered with all of the wit and grace
Of a turd.
I don’t like you very much.

Oh, you saggy-bottomed baggy-jowelled loud-mouthed
Orange-faced dolt
With an expression like a spinster aunt
Straining out a poo in a station toilet
Three minutes before her train is due.
You weak-willed flabby-cheeked oddly-coiffured 
Stumpy-legged dunderhead
With a mouth like a cat’s arse,
I bet you’ve got a really small knob.
You red-capped Diet Cola-quaffing potty-mouthed
Egotistical scare-mongering morally-bankrupt pile of
Upchuck.
I don’t like you very much.

You no longer need compassion to be President, apparently.
Nor any sort of wisdom nor decorum,
Just a feel for the simple prejudices that sound good
In their repeating
And an inherent inferiority complex which migh stem
From your minuscule Willy
And a hint of righteous indignation,
The last simpering gasp of mature debate
In which the ultimate insult is to accuse your enemies
Of kindness 
And list among their number
Those less fortunate, less privileged, less straight,
More trans and definitely less white than yourself,
What kind of thinking does this legitimise?
What message does this send out to women
Who have been the victims of sex predators,
Or men who think it’s fine to act on such urges,
What message does this send out to the casual racist
You cry baby
You big cry baby
You white supremacist cry baby.
I don’t like you very much.

You name is an old English word for fart, how apt,
For thou art
A rancid wind passed on to the pages of history,
A stench, a gaseous build up let rip
Leaving in its wake an odour of smug pomposity

Oh, you snivelling snot bag,
You drivel-emitting weasel-brained rapscallion,
You bulbous-cheeked odious
Clay-brained tit, you crusty scab
On the face of common decency,
You pungent base fascism-obsessed unnecessary
Foul-brained ass of a man.
How I long for you to be photographed
Making love to an life sized cardboard cut out version
Of yourself while
Elon Musk wanks in the corner 
How I long for that
How I long for that day.

You were on TV the other nigh
Speaking your usual complete and utter bollocks
And I had a sudden urge to lick
Oh please let me lick
Let me lick the side of your
Craggy orange face.